Because They Weren't Always There
by TinyBlackcurrant
Summary: Ron and Hermione weren't always by Harry's side, and Ginny knows this. When Hermione goes to the Owlery as an excuse get away from Ron, who is, well, busy with Lavender, Ginny goes to Harry and they start a conversation, which would be one of many. Set around Christmas time in the Half-Blood Prince.


**Because they weren't always there**

**A random romantic moment I thought up which I pictured happening during the Half-Blood Prince. Enjoy it, everyone.**

**A kind of Harry and Ginny moment, or at least that's what I'm going to class it as.**

**Reviews are appreciated.**

**Suggestions for future stories always welcome.**

**And I've put a note about Quirky at the bottom of the story.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All rights go to J. K Rowling.**

Harry stifled a yawn behind his hand, well aware of Hermione's watchful gaze on him as he 'studied'. Because his definition of studying differed to hers, he had not made himself a colour-coded timetable of his homework, nor did he ever use that homework diary she bought him. He'd only used the damn thing as to not hurt Hermione's feelings. He'd thrown it out when he could, but told Hermione it'd been very useful.

Well, for the fire, he supposed.

Harry continued to write at what he supposed for Hermione was an annoyingly slow pace, since she would occasionally look up from her own essays at his, not to copy, since it was always the other way around if copying was involved, but as to see if he was actually making any progress with his Defence Against the Dark Arts essay.

He glanced up at Hermione's essay when she wasn't looking. She, too, had glanced up, but not in his direction. She was torturing herself by glancing up to spot Ron and Lavender. Although it was well hidden, Harry saw the pain flash through her eyes once again before she continued scratching away at her parchment, which was already full.

He looked at his own. It was only halfway filled with his tiny, untidy script. Harry let out a tiny groan of frustration, which his study partner ignored. He would have used one of Fred and George's smart-answer quills, but after seeing Ron's essay while using one of those, he got an inkling of the fact that the 'smart-answer' part of the title was also a joke. He had inquired about this to the twins, who had sent back a quick response confirming the suspicion.

_Well, they are joke shop products… _Harry thought to himself dryly.

While Hermione was distracted, he allowed his gaze to wander away from the tedious writing in front of him to a matter of more interest to him. Ginny Weasley was sitting there quietly in the corner, her head bent over own of her own essays of some sort. Dean Thomas was also next to her, to Harry's annoyance. He couldn't help but notice, however, that Ginny was leaning away from him slightly, as though trying to get away without Dean noticing. The monster in his chest couldn't help but lift its head slightly in hope as Harry acknowledged this.

Harry tore his gaze away from her to meet Hermione's. She was clearly trying not to smile, and that also annoyed him. He was tempted to speak to her about Ginny, but he didn't think he could stand the shame; the smug look; the knowing smile. So, instead of speaking, he flashed Hermione a too-casual smile and dropped his head toward his essay. Too hastily, his glasses fell off his nose onto the thankfully dry ink. He heard Hermione make an odd noise in the back of her throat which sounded like she was trying to stifle a laugh. Ignoring both her and the sudden heat in his cheeks, he pushed his glasses back where they belonged, holding them steadily onto his nose before adjusting the angle of his head so they didn't slip off.

Harry reluctantly returned to his essay. Hermione did the same. They worked in a companionable silence for about ten minutes before Hermione looked up. Harry did the same, leaning his head back so he could crack his aching neck. It helped, sort of.

"Do you mind if I borrow Hedwig to send a letter to my parents, Harry?" Hermione asked politely.

Harry almost said she was away with a letter to Sirius out of habit, but remembered that she wasn't, with a stab of pain. "Yeah, sure," he replied nonchalantly.

"Thanks, Harry. She probably won't be away for long; I'd say it'd only take about three days." Hermione assured him.

"I'm not bothered, honestly, Hermione. Hedwig likes to fly fast, anyway, so I'd say it'd take less than that." Harry said, a slight smile playing on his lips at her obvious worry of him minding. He knew exactly why she was so bothered, though. He was her best friend, especially so since Ron's rather abrupt leave from her circle of friends. He was the closest person in her life now, maybe besides Ginny. "She's enjoyed competing to see how fast she can fly ever since Pigwidgeon showed up." He regretted mentioning Ron's twittering owl as soon as he blurted out the name. It just came naturally to mention his best friend, he supposed, despite the rocky ground Ron and Hermione were walking on at the minute.

"Well, okay, then. Thanks again, Harry." Hermione smiled gratefully before screwing on the lid of her ink, rolling up her essay, and then stuffing everything into her bag before slinging it onto her shoulder and leaving the common room.

Harry finished his essay about five minutes later, amazing himself, since he had neither had to ask Hermione for help, and had met the necessary length and description requirements, even though it was quite narrowly. So, with Hermione's absence and Ron's, ah, occupation, he now had nothing to do and no one to talk to. He wasn't counting Colin and Dennis Creevey and various fan girls in that equation. So his gaze wandered again. _Don't look at Ron, don't look at Ron – you looked at Ron. Does Lavender ever give his lips a peaceful moment? _

Determinedly not looking at the youngest Weasley boy, he looked around once again. after getting bored of watching the snow fall outside and gradually filling up his view out of the window anyway, Harry resorted to looking at the fire, unconsciously thinking of how, only last year, Sirius's head had been in that fire.

So much had changed since then. For one, his beloved godfather had still been alive. The Ministry had been in denial of Voldemort's return, and were doing an excellent job of convincing the rest of the wizarding world he was off his rocker and an attention-seeking weirdo. Tonks had been her usual bubbly self, Fred and George didn't own Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Lupin had been less grey, he fancied Cho Chang, Ollivander had still been selling wands, Florean Fortesque had still been selling ice creams and was probably not above giving him free sundae like he used to, Malfoy wasn't a Death Eater (Ron and Hermione could deny it all they wanted)… But the biggest change was his suddenly unearthed feelings for Ginny Weasley. And also his sudden, irrational, jealous loathing of Dean Thomas that came with those feelings.

Speaking of the devil, Dean had stood up. Harry's jaw clenched irritably as he kissed Ginny's cheek and bade her goodnight. Once he had gone into the boys' dormitory, he saw Ginny lift her head and sigh, running a hand through her long ginger hair. She caught Harry's eye. And she _smiled. _

Three years ago that wouldn't have been such a big deal, but now…

Harry returned the gesture and waved. She grinned in return, a confident, mischievous grin which Harry had a certain fondness for. Ginny stood, grabbed her bag and mouthed, 'can I join you?'

Harry shrugged, nodding towards the seat opposite him. She smiled in thanks, crossing the common room to sit down.

"Thanks, Harry. I'd've otherwise have been sitting with Romilda Vane, and that's not something I fancy doing anytime soon." Ginny said gratefully.

"S'alright, Ginny; I kind of needed some sane company too." Harry replied, a slight smirk on his face.

"Did you not want the company of your loving fans?" Ginny asked innocently.

"I never want the company of my loving fans," Harry replied. "Tell Romilda Vane that and see if she takes the hint."

"And spoil her fun? That girl needs a head check, I admit, but I'm not going to be the one to drag her out of her schoolgirl fantasy, Mr Potter," Ginny said.

"True. If that woman who sent me a letter last year still thinks I need to go to St. Mungo's for a course of shock spells, I'm going to hunt her down and introduce her to Romilda Vane to see if she agrees that I'm the one in my right head." Harry yawned.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "That seems a bit drastic to get into even Romilda's head. _I _might have done that if I had an obsessive stalker, but I don't, so all is well."

"In your life," Harry reminded her. "In _my_ life I have several obsessive stalkers. And don't you think Fred and George would do that for you if you had an obsessive stalker?"

"Those overprotective gits probably would, now you mention it," Ginny admitted. "But I prefer to handle things myself… or think I can handle things myself when my gits of brothers don't get in the way of me getting my sweet revenge and or justice."

"You can be a very cruel person, Ginny Weasley," Harry commented.

"Coming from the person who lashed out at Dolores Umbridge on several occasions, blew up his aunt, did underage magic, faced Voldemort and killed a diary with a Basilisk fang?" Ginny pointed out.

"Disdain noted."

"Don't be so hard on me, it's not my fault I'm well behaved," Ginny said innocently. Harry choked back a laugh.

"Does that have a translation of 'don't be so hard on me, it's not my fault I grew up with six brothers so I'm tough and therefore prone to acting impulsively'?" Harry asked dryly.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you accuse me falsely of being big-headed, Harry James Potter," Ginny said, a remarkable resemblance to Professor McGonagall in her stern tone. Harry laughed.

"Where's Hermione? She's not secretly snogging someone, is she?" Ginny asked.

"She told me she's gone to send a letter to her parents, but I think she's writing it in the Owlery to avoid this sickening sight." Harry said, jerking a thumb behind him in Ron and Lavender's general direction. Ginny saw where he was looking and pulled a disgusted face.

"Those two are like a pair of eels," Ginny said in a disgusted tone.

"Don't I know it?" Harry muttered.

"I would hope so, otherwise your glasses aren't doing their job very well," Ginny said slyly. Harry pulled a face at her.

"Oh, they've stopped snogging now," Harry commented after glancing around the back of his chair.

"Thank Merlin," Ginny sighed. "I can look around without fear of my eyes being assaulted." She glanced at her watch. "Oh, not that I would've had to look for much longer, mind; it's already eleven."

"Wow, that went fast," Harry commented. "I haven't talked to you in ages, though, we should do more often."

"Yeah, I'll boot Dean upstairs and you drag Hermione off to her natural habitat so we can talk again," Ginny laughed.

"That'll be easy to do," Harry grinned, waving an airy hand. "Anyway then, night, Ginny."

"Night, Harry," Ginny yawned.

They were initially joking about their conversations, but after that at least once a week they did indeed sit down and talk on a Saturday night.

**Is this worth a companion piece later on in the year? Around June, when they were dating, perhaps? Let me know in a review, and, as always, suggestions, criticism and whatnot are always welcome.**

**Right, Quirky. I'm not too sure if I should continue it. Apparently the first chapter was popular, and it seems people have high expectations of a next chapter. So, if anyone could tell me if I should continue it or has things I could incorporate then I'm happy. **

**Once again, if it's worth a review, then please leave one, my lovelies. :)**


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